Fanfiction: A Pack of Lies (7/8)
Title: A Pack of Lies
Author: runenklinge
Artist: petr_slavik
Genre: Crime
Characters: James Jesse, Neil Caffrey, Peter Burke, Hartley Rathaway, Mozzie, Diana Berrigan, Clinton Jones, Elizabeth Burke, Peter Hernandez, Sandra Kilgour; mentions of past Rogues
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 27k +
Warnings: mentions of past canon character death, character death
A/N: as you may or may not have guessed, this is a White Collar AU, just with more James Jesse. I want to thank petr_slavik for her terrific art, and kidezt for her wonderful management and handling of all things. I could not have done this without her.
Summary:
A new crime spree calls New York's White Collar unit to the task. But since the crimes bear the mark of the famous master criminal, the Trickster, the FBI decides to send in their expert on all things Trickster: Special Agent James Jesse. What follows are questions, doubts, more crime and a lot of lies.
This is my RoguesBang entry, check out more awesome entries there
Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 I
Alternate at AO3: here
You have to check out the beautiful art hoples made for me
Art Link: LJ
Chapter 6:
Peter had stepped into the bureau refreshed and calm. He had a good feeling about this morning. He'd sent an agent to take a look at Lady Chesterton's storage, so they'd soon know if she or Mr Saltarino had anything to do with the crime at the museum. Neal was already in his office, reading in some report.
“Boss, you have to see this!” Diana rushed into Peter's office, a file in her hand, “before you called us to verify his alibi, I had asked HQ to check out Rathaway. He has a sealed record.”
“Let me guess: sins of youth?”
“Yes. But, this is the point: I got a call from an Agent Morillo who had been transferred from Keystone where Rathaway lived in his teenage years: he is - allegedly, of course - the Trickster's old partner, only he wasn't so lucky. He did get caught for a different crime, some Robin Hood robbery- he was let off with a slap on his wrist because of his family, they're old money and have feelers in about every department - but almost all of his crimes were connected to the Trickster; and I bet you that they're working together now.”
“That son of a-” Peter thundered, “I want to see Agent Jesse now!”
“Oh, I know that tone,” a voice said; it was smooth and had an edge to it, like a knife barely concealed, teasing, “you're pissed because you think that I tricked you.” It was James, leaning in the doorway. Neal's alarms rang: his whole demeanor was different. His pose was relaxed, casual, as if he didn't have a care in the world. But his face - his face was an almost offending grimace of smugness, of 'I'm smarter than you' and 'come on, challenge me'. Gone was the facade of the polite but efficient agent. Neal knew a shark when he saw one, and James was a great white in a pool of ornamental fish.
“You lied to us! Rathaway is not your boyfriend but your old partner! He's the accomplice!”
James put on an expression of mock-hurt. “How dare you? I'm in love with that man.”
Everything they had said in the hotel room had been a lie! Neal couldn't believe that he had fallen for that.
“So, nothing of all that is true?”
“Don't sound so....betrayed, Neal. I told you the truth. You never asked me about possible teenage misdoings.”
And he was right - he hadn't lied, not explicitly, but Neal knew the difference well enough, used it himself often.
“I'll get you for this!” Peter said with fury in his voice.
“For what?” James stood upright, hands in his pockets. He seemed taller than this morning. Colder, as well. “I'm always blamed for crimes like that, but you know that, Burke.”
In his eyes glinted a fire, 'come and get me, if you can' it said.
“I will put you under arrest!”
“I'd like to see you try.”
Then Hughes arrived at the office, cellphone still clutched in his hand. “Jesse, you're being suspended.”
James turned to face him, he seemed to almost loom over Hughes, although he wasn't actually taller than him.
“Et tu, Hughes? Am I suddenly responsible for some other crime...again?”
“No,” Hughes answered and, although he never looked anything but professional, he replied smugly “but the jewelry store also did repairs and it was working on some that belonged to Mrs Rathaway. And since you have such close ties to the family, I can't let you investigate any further, I fear your judgment may be compromised.”
“Huh, that's....so very considerate of you.” It was only for a moment, but he had been rattled. But James composed himself quickly. “I guess I'll have to remove myself from the active investigation, lest I get in the way.” Despite his words, it sounded like 'you win this round'.
James, the eyes of every agent glued to his back, went to the elevator and as he went in, and turned around, he waved at Neal. It couldn't be a coincidence that his shirt sleeve slipped down to reveal red scratch marks.
“We need to catch him,” Jones snarled, “he made a fool out of us!”
“He's good, but we're better,” Peter agreed.
“As long as you have no prove and hard evidence, you can't go arrest him. I received a call from my superiors and they want to ignore this until it goes away - either if we make it go away or the Trickster stops. I don't need to say which alternative I'd prefer.”
“Why? Why are they protecting him?” Diana asked.
“I feel the rumors are true, he has some dirt on them, and it's apparently big enough that they are willing to let this just slide.” Neal was shocked. What could he know that the bureau would keep quiet? Just how many secrets did this man know?
“He stole millions!”
“You are under strict order to go by the book, no fast lanes, no short-cuts. Understand? I like it as much as you do, but our hands are tied.”
Hughes walked back to his own office, they saw how he furious he was.
“Can we bring in Rathaway for questioning?” Neal asked.
“That should be fine, let's... I know where he's going to strike next.”
“How, Peter?”
“I was having breakfast with El, but I was called away before I could finish the newspaper, but there was something.....there.”
Peter had loaded the news site on his pc.
“The Rathaway's are going to throw a party, and despite rumors about this being canceled after the theft tonight, 'Osgood and Rachel Rathaway are proud to announce that they will not be deterred from throwing this exclusive gala,” The article went on to say how rich and so altruistic the Rathaways were, but the agents were only interested in the time and place.
“I want a team at the party, and one outside. We'll catch him red-handed, then they will have their proof. No matter what dirt he has, this will count.”
After talking to Mr Rathaway on the phone - more like getting yelled at by Mr Rathaway - he grudgingly agreed to let the FBI in, provided they blend in. Peter politely refrained from reminding him that he couldn't have refused anyway. “I hope this won't cause a scandal, we don't need any more of that.”
Before Neal could ask what past scandals the Rathaways had been involved in - probably to do with their son, the criminal - Mr Rathaway had hung up.
“The teams are ready, all at their places. We have extra security at the power generator and all exits. He must be mad to try anything here.”
“I'm counting on him being just that. He's arrogant and believes he's smarter than anyone else, he'll show, just to piss us off.”
Peter presented Neal with a watch. “Very James Bond.”
“It's a recording device. If he's there, get him to talk.”
“Do you think that will work?”
“I believe that pride comes before the fall, he will be his own undoing.”
“So you're counting on him being too smart for his own good?”
“Worked for you, Neal.”
“Don't compare me with him, please.”
Neal and Peter got out of the car.
The Rathaways were rich beyond belief, and Neal's fingers itched if he just thought of what treasures might be hidden in the house. Other people had a summer home, the Rathaways had an East coast come, west coast home, winter home, home and a cabin at a lake. They owned the lake, of course.
The mansion was grand, early 20th century architecture, and limousines swarmed to it like moths to the light. Neal could spot the FBI agents from a mile away, so he supposed James could, too.
But, he was convinced James was going to show.
“Do tell your agents to blend in better, this is so embarrassing. We're being treated like criminals.”
“Mr Rathaway, please, with the utmost respect. We are merely observing.”
“Can you at least tell me who it is that you are looking for? “
“Hi, Agent Burke,” a voice to his left said. Peter turned around and saw a young man, in his early thirties, with wavy blond hair and sky blue eyes. It took Neal a second to realize, but...
“James?”
“Hi Neal. Are you bothering pops over here?”
“For the last time, do not call me that in public. Or private. And no, you're not allowed to use synonyms, so no dad, daddy, poppa, my old man. In fact, don't talk to me. I thought you were busy with work anyway, a respectable job that has long hours.”
James smiled impishly. “I got suspended, isn't that wonderful? All the more time to spend with my best beloved.”
“Only you can make a disaster sound positive.”
“I'll take that as a compliment.”
“Of course you would,” Mr Rathaway said exasperated, “I'll never understand why my son can't see that you're just criminal scum who only uses him for his money.”
“I'm pretty,” James offered and winked. He looked years younger without the glasses, and suddenly....different. It didn't seem possible, but with that little detail changed, he was a whole different person.
Mr Rathaway walked off with a “Rachel, your good for nothing son-in-law is back!”
“You won't get away with this,” Peter said grimly.
“Get away with what? I don't recall being accused of a crime.”
“We know you're planning something. And we will catch you in the act.”
James leaned close. “I'd like to see you try.”
“My men have you surrounded”
“Please, I can spot your FBI agents easily. Here's one,” he pointed at an agent in an elegant purple dress, “here's another, my god, that one isn't even trying, is he, and there, and here, and the one back there as well.”
“I suppose you expect me to be impressed.”
James face turned dark and a thin sharp grin cut through his expression. He laid an arm around Peter's shoulder and gestured with the other towards various people.
“That man is cheating on his wife, with this woman over there. This gentleman is in deep debt but he like to keep up appearances. This one is dying, another adulterer, oh check out the guy in the gray tux, he just stole this lady's purse. Isn't one of your men going to interfere?” He was so close to Peter, right up in his face, daring him to react.
“This is a game to you?”
“Everything is. And it's an easy one, too. Don't you agree Mr Daddy-Issues?” He looked at Neal menacingly. “Say hi from me to your friend, little orphan Annie.” He turned back to Peter.
“People, Agent Burke, are like glass. And they break just as easily,” he continued, popping the k sound. He whispered something in Peter's ear which made him pale.
“I don't care what my boss said, you're going down,” Peter raged.
“You can't touch me, the boss said not to touch me.”
“You don't get to hide behind them, not for me.”
“Is that what the great Trickster has come to?” Neal intervened, “cowering in a cage he himself crawled into?”
Suddenly his demeanor changed. He whipped around to Neal, voice containing barely concealed rage. “You? YOU dare say that to me? Out of the two of us, which one is wearing the bureau's LEASH? Go, dog, back to your master, run to daddy.”
Hartley appeared to James' right and put a hand on his chest, holding him back.
“He's not worth it, babe, he's not worth it. We got what we came for, let's go.”
“You're not going anywhere.”
“Oh really? I think my friend Mr Smokebomb is going to disagree with you.”
There was a loud bang and a cloud of smoke poured from a table.
“Freeze!” Peter yelled and all the agents were already closing in, but it was too late. It was like James had donned an invisibility cloak, he was nowhere in sight.
“Hartley! Hartley!” a woman called, “where's my son? Hartley!”
That was the start to a chorus of wails, calls and screams.
“Peter, outside, he's going to run!” Neal urged Peter on and they stumbled outside, where they could just hear a car's engine roar and jump to the side as it sped by.
Peter cursed, and ran to his own car. Neal could just get in before Peter took off.
“Peter!” Neal yelled as Peter ran a red light.
“He has shaken off everyone, but us, we won't stop now.” Peter took a sharp left, Neal was pressed into his seat.
“Why don't you call for backup?” Neal asked as the seat belt slammed against his chest.
“Tried it, it doesn't work. I bet while the Trickster was at the party and distracting us, his little friend sabotaged your comms. Be glad the accelerator still works.”
Neal was used to the rush of adrenaline and high speeds, but he was beginning to get sick.
“I bet he'll try the air port, get out of the country fast, he'll turn at the next block and-”
“No, Peter, he's heading towards the harbor,” Neal recognized, “ Let's pretend that he lost us. Fall back a bit, we can catch him red-handed.”
Peter turned off the lights, and fell back behind a delivery van. They could just spot the car entering into a small path and then stopping. Peter drove a block further and then got out. He wanted to say something, for Neal to stay back, but he wasn't having any of this.
“I'll call for back-up, and you-” he reached for his cell, but couldn't find one.
“That bastard! He stole my phone!” Neal fished for his, and gave it to Peter. “No signal? Just our luck. I'll send a text with our location”
They sneaked closer, Peter with his gun in hand. James and Hartley had stopped in an open, empty place and-
“Wait!” Peter hissed and grabbed Neal's shoulder and held him back.
Not a second too soon, someone was ...clapping? Yes, slowly clapping, and judging from the sound, it was coming nearer.
Hartley, with a sports bag in each hand and one on his back, looked around nervously. James had apparently anticipated this.
What sort of getaway was this?
Had someone staged an ambush? Who?
“Stop hiding in the shadows, you're not fooling anyone here,” James said and he sounded vaguely annoyed.
A deep chuckle sounded, and it sent shivers down Neal's spine.
“I should have known that those tricks wouldn't work on you.” The voice was deep, with a strange melody and an accent Neal couldn't just place. It flowed like honey, but Neal couldn't deny that there was an undertone to it that was deeply upsetting.
“I did what you asked,” James offered.
Could it be? Was this man, who was slowly walking towards the light, the real power behind the throne, letting the Trickster dance like a jester?
“And you performed admirably. With too much juvenile pranks for my taste, but you got the job done.”
James nodded to Hartley who set the bags on the floor gently.
“Sorry I couldn't cover everything with cash, but those New York fencers are so squeamish, I guess you'll have to carry a bit more weight.”
“Everything is in order?”
“Do you think I'm stupid enough to do everything perfectly up to this point and then screw up by being ten thousand bucks short? I even included a little extra, a small statue that caught my eye, because I anticipated you were going to invent some interest rates.”
The man stepped finally into the light, and Neal let out an involuntary gasp. Tall, with pale blond hair and a preference for green suits? Nero. Neal didn't think this was his real name, but that man had enough charisma, he might as well have been a Roman emperor. Back in the office, and at the party, James had seemed like a shark in a pool filled with normal fish. But compared to this guy, he seemed small and almost harmless.
“We thought this guy was dead,” Peter whispered, “my god, he's alive.”
“Don't be disappointed if I don't take your word for it.”
“You're smart.”
“You're despicable.”
Nero chuckled again, and it was a sound devoid of any amusement.
“Your freedom is worth 25 million, you should be flattered.”
“My face may show disgust, but deep down I'm cartwheeling. I want nothing to do with you, and I expect you to honor our deal.”
“There's nothing I respect more.”
“Good. I'll complete my half then.”
James crouched down to open the bags, allowing Nero to see their contents. He seemed content, he nodded. “And the last thing.” James stood up again, and turned to face Hartley. His grin was impish.
“No witnesses,” he said softly, pulled a gun from his back and shot Hartley. The shot rang out impossibly loud, and Hartley crumpled to the ground. Peter rushed out from their hiding place, pointed his gun at James and bellowed at him to drop the gun. James didn't seem surprised to see Peter, or really bothered by a lethal weapon shoved in his face.
“Wow, that was stupid,” he observed.
Cold metal was pressed to Neal's neck and he raised his hands in surrender. He was herded towards the others. He couldn't see the person threatening him, but people in black suits came from all directions. Apparently Nero had planned ahead. The goon behind him shoved him towards James and the body, and trained his gun on Neal.
“You didn't manage to shake them before you got here?”
“You set the time limit, I figured you could dispose of them.
“You monster!” Peter yelled, “you shot your own partner in cold blood!” James didn't seem disturbed by that in the slightest. The impish smile was still on his face, but it looked more creepy than anything.
“It's not as if he was the first. Or will be the last, realistically speaking. Pity though, he was just like I want them: naïve, too trusting and most importantly, filthy rich.” Suddenly he seemed so ugly again, so cruel. Peter wanted to speak up again, but Nero motioned with his head slightly, and one of the goons hit him over the head with his gun, and Peter fell down, and stayed down.
“How can you be so heartless?!” Neal cried.
“I could tell you a story about a bad childhood, and abusive parents, but in reality? I like games, and I always win, and losers don't matter to me.”
With both James and Nero looking at them with the same creepy grin on their faces, it made Neal's stomach drop. Where was that back up? He needed to buy them more time, he needed to keep them talking.
“I thought Nero hated you and wanted nothing more than to see you dead, why are you working for him?”
“Oh, you got it all wrong,” Nero replied to Neal's surprise, “I want him defeated, and utterly humiliated at my feet. Killing him would have been...inelegant. Not worthy of my time. And now I made him give up his last protection, break off all ties, kill a man, and all for some little trinkets I have no real need off.” His eyes were eerily green. “Isn't that far better?”
Neal saw James look at Nero with pure hatred.
“Of course, killing him was tempting, and it would have been so easy. A sniper here, or an assassin there - he would have been dead long ago. But it would have been too easy. Killing is so petty. I can do much worse. Everyone can kill, everyone can end a life. But to control it, to crush it, to warp it to your design - that takes skill. That is what I delight in. I have absolute power over one man, and he knows it, he is the cleverest man I know, he has beaten me once, and now he's helpless. Everything in him wants to do the opposite of what I want, but he has to listen to me. That is true power.”
Neal could only tear his gaze away from Nero with great effort, the man had something almost hypnotic about him. James was trembling almost imperceptively, his face in a blank mask that revealed no emotion. Nothing shone outward. But then he opened his mouth, and something did come out, four words, and with them came all his anger, and disgust and something that Neal would almost call desperation.
“I have done enough.”
Nero chuckled, and this time Neal did shiver.
“Consider the deal fulfilled.”
Three of the henchmen picked up the bags next to James and the dead body of his lover? Friend? Victim? And walked with them past Nero. He had probably a car or maybe even a boat there, hidden in the harbor. Neal was thinking frantically how to get himself and Peter out alive, maybe Nero wouldn't be interested in them, maybe he'd kill them because as he had just said, killing was easy. Maybe James could - but James was the Trickster, and a monster. Neal could count on maybe a bullet from him, not more.
A piercing wail rang through the air - the sirens on arriving squad cars and two SWAT vans.
So the backup had received their message!
Nero spat some curse and in unison the henchmen turned their guns on James. Neal couldn't tell who shot first, but James went down immediately. Then they turned to him and Peter, only one second before the inevitable, when the cavalry had come.
A dozen and more cops shouted at the goons, weapons trained at them, they were going to be taken out if anyone tried anything. Neal had never been so glad at the sigh of policemen with guns before. While these men were being disarmed, a second team of agents went after Nero who had fled the scene.
It felt like awakening from a long dream. Neal was dazed, probably in shock - being a second away from getting shot at gunpoint was not something he was accustomed to. And there were two bodies to his feet, one with a bullet through his heart, and the other through his head. Red was flowing from them. Neal only dimly realized that Diana had come, and was trying to lead him away.
“No, where's Peter? Is Peter okay?”
She smiled, and it was the best thing he had seen all week. “Paramedic's looking at him right now, looks like he has a concussion and one hell of a headache, but he's had worse.” He hugged her, and she hugged back. But then she was called away by someone, and he was left standing alone. Behind him, the goons were put in handcuffs and into a van. Agent were coordinating the people here, some were yelling into their walkie-talkies. It all faded into background noise for Neal. He stepped close, unable to stop himself, the horror was too great. He felt a tinge of betrayal, but mostly sadness.
James lay on the ground, leather jacket opening to reveal a bullet proof vest. Apparently he had planned ahead, but not far enough. There was a big red stain on his forehead, and a trail of blood at his mouth. His eyes stared unseeing in the air. Neal covered his mouth, it was too horrible. He felt sorry for him, somehow. The Trickster had turned out to be a monster in employ of a monster, but Neal felt pity. But what he had told Peter was true, no more so than ever: he would not end up like this.
The END
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